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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25880206">Call It Good</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vorpal_Sword/pseuds/Vorpal_Sword'>Vorpal_Sword</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Epistolary, F/F, Family Estrangement, Female Aziraphale (Good Omens), Female Crowley (Good Omens), Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Jewish Aziraphale (Good Omens), Jewish Crowley (Good Omens), Jewish Good Omens (Good Omens), LGBTQ Jewish Character(s), Trans Crowley (Good Omens), chosen family</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:48:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,316</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25880206</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vorpal_Sword/pseuds/Vorpal_Sword</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When bookshop owner Esther Fell invited mysterious author AJ Crowley to give a talk on her new novel, Call It Good, she hoped for a chance to meet an author she admired and to sell some books. </p><p>When Crowley sent off a caustic response to the bookseller, she hoped to have the invitation rescinded to get her publisher off her back so she could go back to grading papers, yelling at her plants, and glaring at the rough draft of her next book.</p><p>Neither expected it to blossom into a lively correspondence, nor to find a new friend...or maybe more.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Warlock Dowling/Adam Young</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>101</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Shvat (January)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dear Ms. Crowley,</p><p>My name is Esther Fell, and I am the proprietor of <em> A-Z Books </em> in Soho. We at the store loved your latest novel, <em> Call It Good</em>. It is my understanding that you are not doing a traditional book tour, but we would be honored to host you for an author’s talk and book signing. London is not so far from Cambridge, after all. </p><p>If you are interested, please respond with some dates and times that would work for you, and we will set a date. Either way, thank you for writing this brilliant book. </p><p>Sincerely,</p><p>Esther Fell</p><p>
  <em> A-Z Books </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>Dear Ms. Fell,</p><p>Despite my distaste for author events, my publisher insists that I answer you— something about A-Z being a “London institution." So: no. Consider yourself answered, and I can get Lucy off my back.</p><p>By the by, I recommend changing up your form letter for inviting authors to something that at least makes them <em> suspect </em>you may have read the book, instead of empty platitudes that could have been said about anything. Just a thought. Free writing advice, even. </p><p>Crowley</p>
<hr/><p>Dear Ms. Crowley,</p><p>Thank you for your response. I am, of course, disappointed that you will not be joining us, but I am horrified to have given you such a faulty impression of my reading! </p><p>On a reread, I can see how my email came off as generic. That was the edited-down version, as I did not want to come off too strongly with overwhelming effusive praise for a book I feel I have been waiting for my entire life, but I do see how I went too far in the other direction. </p><p>First of all, <em> Call It Good </em>is a literary masterpiece. To take a subject as well-mined as the Garden of Eden and find new nuggets of meaning, to take one of the oldest stories we have and make it fresh, to take such a familiar story and continually surprise me with the twists and turns— It was phenomenal. I was hooked by the end of the first page, and there were several spots where I had to put the book down to reflect on a particularly poetic or moving sentence. And having the whole thing narrated by a semi-reliable Lilith— just brilliant. </p><p>Naturally, living in a culture so heavily Christian, one rather expects Christian interpretations of texts to be prevalent, but it was so deeply refreshing to read a take on the Garden of Eden without the slightest hint of the doctrine of original sin, one so deeply rooted in Jewish theology, midrash, and understandings of the story. I know some of your reviewers were alternately upset or pleased at your “inventiveness” with the demonology, but I was delighted to recognize many of them from the Talmudic source texts. (Which is not to say you were not inventive! Just that I am so very tired of Christian versions of demons when they could be excited about giant frogs who live in cabinets and teach you the entire Torah if you take care of them properly). </p><p>All of that said, the real reason I wrote such an admittedly bland opening email is that I was afraid of revealing rather too much of myself than is appropriate in a professional setting. As a lifelong lover of books, I am a staunch believer in the principle that books ought to be both mirrors and windows, providing insight into one’s self and others. I had long resigned myself to partial mirrors in literature, only reflecting this or that piece of me, until I read <em> Call It Good.</em> To read a book, quite literally an origin story, both so deeply Jewish and deeply queer, spoke to a hunger in my soul I had never expected to be satisfied. Lilith’s resentment of Chava slowly transforming into affection, and then into love, is not the love story I would have expected, but it was one that I needed. </p><p>Sincerely,</p><p>Esther </p>
<hr/><p>Dear Ms. Fell,</p><p>Well. That certainly was no form letter. Thank you for your kind words. Unlike my earlier books, written for a broad audience, I wrote <em> Call It Good </em>for myself, above all, as the story I wish I’d had when I was young. I am gratified to know that it meant something to you, as well.</p><p>I’ve attached a list of dates that would be possible for a book talk at your store. Don’t think you’ve convinced me to change my mind or anything— Lucy (my publisher) was very insistent. </p><p>Regards,</p><p>C</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Me: I want more Jewish Good Omens content.<br/>Me: I want more epistolary romances.<br/>Me: ...I can't sleep. </p><p>This fic is also brought to you by my deep appreciation for borealowl's brilliant series, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/series/1605910">Four Cups of Wine</a>, about Aziraphale and Crowley getting adopted as chosen family by a lesbian Jewish couple, the t-shirt a friend gave me for my birthday that says "It's Lilith and Eve, not Lilith and Steve," and this recent <a href="https://twitter.com/JustSayXtian/status/1293555030214103042?s=20">twitter thread</a> about Jewish demonology.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Adar 1 (February)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>They thought the author talk would be the end of it, but the conversation is just beginning.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dear Ms. Crowley,</p><p>Thank you so much for your talk last night. It was such a pleasure to get to meet you in person, and truly a privilege to hear you read some of my favorite passages. You sounded just like how I imagined Lilith would when reading it to myself. </p><p>Hearing about your writing process was also fascinating. I have heard of programmers “debugging” their code by explaining it to a rubber duck (my brother Michael tells me this is a remarkably effective strategy) but I have never before heard of an author arguing with azaleas until they figure out how to fix the plot. It’s a rather delightful image.</p><p>I must apologize for Mr. Ligur’s rudeness. Certainly <em> Call It Good </em>is controversial, even heretical, in Christian circles, but asking a Jewish author why their book didn’t include Jesus is anti-Semetic supersessionist garbage, even before we get to his homophobia. I will never understand why people go out of their way to be hateful. If he isn’t interested in the book, he can simply...not purchase it. After all, it takes far less effort to stay at home in front of the telly than come all the way to Soho to spend half an hour listening to someone you despise just for the opportunity to be an asshole later. Nevertheless, while I regret that it happened at all, I will admit to a certain perverse glee in listening to you dismantle his points one by one. I’m surprised there was anything left of him to stumble out of the shop by the time you finished. </p><p>I do hope this experience has not convinced you that author talks are all miserable and your original distaste was well-founded. The vast majority of attendees had a wonderful time. </p><p>Thank you again!</p><p>Sincerely,</p><p>Esther</p><hr/><p>Esther,</p><p>Not to worry, I apparently had rather a lot of stored-up anger to release on Mr. Ligur, which my therapist says is a better strategy than hoarding it all for myself. And the majority of the questions were rather insightful and interesting.</p><p>I was particularly impressed with the young man with all the curls who asked about trans resonances in the way I wrote Lilith. I hope my answer was not too vague, but I suppose I was more shaken by Ligur’s bigotry than I realized, and there’s only so much defending of my identity and self that I can manage in one evening.</p><p>That said, if the young man happens by your store again and you believe him trustworthy, you may inform him off the record that his reading was <em> precisely on point. </em> Lilith and Chava, as the very first women, are in the project of <em> defining womanhood</em>, and it was important to me that it be an inclusive, expansive definition from the literal beginning. It’s also very much about naming and defining yourself, rather than having that outside naming/defining imposed upon you, as Adam names Chava and the animals in the Biblical narrative. </p><p>As to your question of why people go out of their way to be hateful, when it is so much easier and simpler to not engage… I spent most of my last series, <em> More Last Than Star</em>, exploring that question, albeit in a futuristic sci-fi space opera setting, and I can’t say I have a good answer for you. Some of it is zealotry, the True Believer’s need to Spread the Word, but I think some of it is a deep fear of introspection. They don’t dare examine their own assumptions lest the foundations of their lives start crumbling— which, let us admit, is exactly what would happen. Hate is not a particularly good foundation on which to build one’s self. </p><p>Regards,</p><p>Crowley</p><p>P.S. Really, I told you— just Crowley is fine. </p><p>P.P.S Your store is lovely. I’ve never seen books classified by emotional intensity before, but what a helpful framework for readers! </p><hr/><p>Dear Crowley,</p><p>Thank you for your thoughtful response. I didn’t think I could love <em> Call It Good </em>more, but the more I hear you speak about it, the more I do. </p><p>As for the curly-haired young man you mentioned— I can assure you that Adam is a trustworthy person, and not only because he’s my honorary nephew. His parents, Anathema and Newt, are some of my dearest friends and one of the great joys of my life these last years has been watching him grow up to be a dear friend in his own right. </p><p>Adam was thrilled both to hear your thoughts and to be trusted by an admired adult (as, I must admit, I was as well.) Gender is socially constructed— so the question of what gender <em> was </em>at the very beginnings of society is a fascinating one. Adam and I have been discussing it all week. </p><p>Adam would like your permission to share your comments with his themfriend Warlock (I know, the name’s A Lot, but they picked it themself, and their parents insist on using their deadname, so we’ve all been careful to use it without judgment.) Warlock couldn’t make it to your talk (due to the aforesaid asshole parents whom I would cheerfully slap across the face if I were not quite certain that would make matters worse for Warlock) but they loved the book. I promised I’d pass on the request, but I fully understand if you say no. It’s your business, after all, and choosing to trust me and, by extension, Adam, is not the same as choosing to trust everyone <em> we </em>trust. </p><p>I may still be baffled by the hatefulness of which humanity is capable, but you have, at least, convinced me to read <em> More Last Than Star</em>. I rarely enjoy science fiction (with the notable exception of Ursula Le Guin’s entire oeuvre) but you have earned my trust as an author enough for me to give it a try. </p><p>I hope the weather in Cambridge is less dismal than here. I’m beginning to forget what the sunshine feels like. </p><p>Sincerely,</p><p>Esther</p><p>P.S. Oh, thank you! I came up with the system while organizing my own bookcases. I have a whole shelf of “comfort reads” organized by emotional intensity— or, more accurately, by how much they make me cry. Sometimes I want the catharsis of bawling over a familiar book and sometimes I just want something light and fluffy where the world is gentle and nothing hurts, and I figured other readers might appreciate knowing in advance which was which. </p><hr/><p>Esther,</p><p>Are you kidding? Warlock as a chosen name is <em> cool as shit</em>. I wish I’d thought of it. Your young Adam can certainly share my thoughts with his themfriend (what a charming title) though I appreciate his (and your) thoughtfulness and discretion in checking first. </p><p>I am glad that Adam, at least, has supportive parents and other adults in his life, and that you’re able to be there for Warlock now too. Good parents seem in short supply, and I wish I’d had a cool aunt like you growing up. How did you meet Anathema and Newt? And while we’re discussing unique names— <em> Anathema</em>? There has got to be a story behind that. </p><p>Oh dear, I do hope <em> A Universe Emerging </em> doesn’t shatter all the trust I’ve earned from you. It is my least favorite of the series (I was so young when I wrote it) but you do have to read the first one first, I suppose. And it’s very different than <em> Call It Good. </em> But my therapist would say that I shouldn’t try to talk people <em> out </em>of reading my books and this is me self-sabotaging again. Mary talks a lot for a therapist but she generally talks sense, so I’ll just say that I hope you enjoy it and leave it at that. </p><p>Well, except to add that I certainly would not put myself on the same level as Ursula Le Guin. A teacher slipped me <em> Left Hand of Darkness </em>in high school and it would only be a slight exaggeration to say that it changed my life. I was devastated when she passed away last year.</p><p>Alas, it’s been foggy and damp all week here. I recall sunshine feeling something like the gentle caress of an angel against my cheek promising me that beauty does exist in the world, but I may be misremembering, it’s been a while. </p><p>Warmly, </p><p>Crowley</p><p>P.S. Yes, pun intended, I couldn’t resist. </p><p>P.P.S. Pardon me while I reorganize my bookshelves. Again. </p><hr/><p>Dear Crowley, </p><p>Adam and Warlock send their gratitude. </p><p>If I may ask you a personal question… your last email implies a less-than-stellar relationship with your own parents growing up. Has that relationship improved as an adult? Surely it must have for you to dedicate <em> Call It Good </em>to them. I’m sorry, please feel free to tell me to piss off if this is too intrusive. My parents have improved over the years, but my relationship with my bio-brother Gabriel has been strained for a long time. He doesn’t want me around his children, and there’s nothing I can do about that. I feel very grateful to be able to be an aunt to Adam and his sister Pepper, if not to my bio-nieces and nephew. I’m not sure how “cool” they find me, but I try hard to be the kind of adult I wish I’d had growing up, as you say. </p><p>I met Anathema and Newt in university, though not at the same time. She was biking to class, I had my head in a book— I’m sure you can see where this is going. When we’d picked ourselves up, I insisted on buying her a coffee to make up for my carelessness. Grad students never turn down <strike>free</strike> coffee, but then we got to talking about misogyny and homophobia underlying medieval witch hunts, and soon we were close friends. </p><p>Newt and I met at an event for Jewish students. We happened to be seated next to each other amid a group of premeds all talking about exams. Newt was painfully shy and awkward at first but by the end of the night we were deep into a conversation about the tendency of the British mythological and literary imagination to romanticize theft— Robin Hood, Dick Turpin, the Artful Dodger, etc. Some time later, I hosted a Shabbat dinner for a group of my friends, Newt and Anathema among them. They hit it off immediately and the three of us have been, well, thick as thieves ever since. </p><p>Family legend has it that Anathema’s mother was high off the epidural, opened a Christian Bible, and thought Anathema looked like a lovely name for a girl without any context for what it meant. Her church community was politely appalled and for most of her childhood, she went by Ana to spare the teasing. Much later, after she’d broken with the church, she decided that “Anathema” was, as you might say, actually “cool as shit” and began using her full name. </p><p>I enjoyed <em> A Universe Emerging</em>, though science fiction is still not the genre for me. I found the character development quite compelling, especially coming into it with the question of why people choose to be hateful. I do see what you meant regarding the difference from <em> Call It Good. A Universe Emerging </em> is a far less personal novel, though I admit to a small crush on your butch engine mechanic. </p><p>Le Guin was formative for me, too. I prefer <em> Earthsea </em> to <em> The Hainish Cycle</em>, but of course I adored <em> Left Hand of Darkness— </em> A world without gender, without gender roles, without sexism, is fascinating and compelling. <em> Tehanu </em> is the one I return to the most, though. I find the ending so transcendent. What a wonderful teacher you must have had, to make sure you found the book you needed in that moment. </p><p>There was a brief moment of sunshine this afternoon, and I could swear I felt an angel’s hand against my cheek. Thank you ever so much for that image. </p><p>Best wishes,</p><p>Esther</p><p>P.S. Oh my, this email is far longer than I expected. My apologies. </p><hr/><p>Dear Esther, </p><p>I am afraid I have no advice for you about reconciliation with homophobic relations. My parents and I have not spoken in nearly twenty years. The dedication of my book was, I must admit, deliberately misleading— one that would read as sweet and uninteresting to the average reader but which I (and they, should they ever pick up a copy) would know to be a subtle <em> fuck you</em>. I hope it will not disillusion you too much to learn that, in many ways, the entire book was a <em> fuck you </em> to my parents, to their misogyny, their homophobia, their transphobia— to the ways in which they tried to write me and people like me out of Judaism and out of existence, when we’ve been here from the very very beginning. </p><p>Indeed, when I first began writing <em> Call It Good</em>, I meant it as a <em> fuck you </em> to the Judaism I’d grown up with, too. Something like “I see your patriarchal heteronormative origin story and I raise you this queer-ass garden party.” It was in the process of writing, of exploring the (often deeply weird) Talmudic texts, of reading modern feminist writing on Lilith, of translating midrash about the Garden, that I rediscovered my own love for Judaism, and found that my parents didn’t define my heritage, after all. </p><p>I’m so glad you’ve been able to find such a loving family for yourself. Anathema and Newt sound lovely, and chosen family is so important. Thank you for sharing that bit of your story with me. </p><p>It’s funny you should mention British tendency to romanticize theft— I feel very called out. I don’t know if you’ve decided to continue reading <em> More Last Than Star</em>, but if you choose to, (no pressure!) the next book, <em> Under All Silences</em>, features a Robin Hood-esque thief rather prominently.</p><p>I am grateful to that teacher. I often wonder what she saw in me, how she knew. </p><p>Perhaps I should give <em> Earthsea </em>a reread, it’s been many years since I’ve gone through those books. </p><p>Warmly,</p><p>Crowley</p><p>P.S. No apologies necessary. You've read at least two of my novels, that's far more pages than you've asked me to read. And I enjoy your writing.</p><p>P.P.S. You have brothers named Michael and Gabriel? Any other siblings named Uriel or Raphael?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Me, writing chapter 1: Crowley should be an established author<br/>Me, writing chapter 2: Oops, now I need to come up with titles and general themes for *several* fictional books...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Adar 2 (March)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dear Crowley,</p><p>Please rest assured that I am not “disillusioned” and my love for <em> Call It Good </em>continues to grow. How could it not, knowing that it brought such healing into your life? Bigots do not get a deciding vote on what Judaism is, and I am so glad to have this book as part of that ongoing project of creating and embellishing Torah. </p><p>For my part, I do apologize for bringing up such difficult topics and for making unfoundedly optimistic assumptions. You deserved far better from your parents, and I’m so sorry that they denied you the unconditional love and support to which all children are entitled. </p><p>I hope you have found family for yourself as an adult, and if not, I hope you find that soon. It’s important to have people around who love you. To quote a certain Biblical book with which I know you are quite familiar, it is not good for a person to be alone.</p><p>On that topic, one of the things I am most appreciating about <em> More Last Than Star </em> is the focus on different types of love. So much fiction (and culture in general) prioritizes solely romantic connection, but in <em> More Last Than Star</em>, the “sibling” type relationships are just as important. (Which is not to say that I’m not also deeply enjoying the romance— if Antonia and Zira don’t get together eventually, I’m going to be quite disappointed). </p><p>And on a totally different topic— As you probably know, Purim is around the corner. Pepper has declared that the whole lot of us dress up as famous aliens. Adam and Warlock plan to each go as a different incarnation of the Doctor, Pepper plans to go as Yoda, Newt said something about Spock, and I have no idea what any of the others are doing. Any suggestions for a simple costume I could manage?</p><p>Are you doing anything special for the holiday? Newt has a particularly excellent hamantaschen recipe, if you’re interested. (I have all the baking knowledge of a dedicated viewer of Bake Off, along with not one but several sweet teeth, but, alas, none of the skill. I ruin even the most basic biscuits). </p><p>All my best,</p><p>Esther</p><p>P.S. Believe it or not, I do in fact have another brother named Uriel. Properly I should have been Raphael (or Raphaela, I suppose), but my grandmother passed away while my mother was pregnant with me, so they named me after her instead. I am the only one of my siblings without an angelic name. </p><hr/><p>Esther,</p><p>First things first— Go as Ford Prefect. Wear a couple of clashing patterns, throw a towel over your shoulder, and carry a tablet labeled “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.” Simple and easy. I salute Pepper both for her idea and for her ability to cajole, finagle, bully, and otherwise convince everyone to go along with her plans. Truly a child after my own heart. </p><p>Ah, Purim. I have not celebrated the holiday in some years, but it retains an important position in my heart. I rather suspect it has a similar position in the hearts of any trans child in or coming from the Orthodox community. It was the only socially acceptable time for me to experiment with my gender presentation. I wouldn’t have worded it that way at the time, of course, but every year I looked forward to pulling out my Queen Esther costume with a certain ineffable joy, a thrill I could not name.</p><p>As an adult, I have a deep fondness for the Book of Esther as a brilliant satirical work. Among other things, it’s a powerful criticism of fascism and misogyny, especially the first chapter with Vashti. And the notion that the most powerful sleeping aid available to the absolute ruler is… his own autobiography. Simply hilarious. </p><p>There’s one bit I think of often, towards the end. After all the drama has concluded, Esther and Mordecai have saved the Jews, Haman and his sons have all been executed, and Mordecai takes over Haman’s administrative role, the text lists all of Mordecai’s accomplishments and says “most of the people liked him.” Most! You can literally save your people from genocide and still not have a perfect approval rating. I try to remind myself of that while reading my reviews— I cannot possibly please everyone, and I would not like the result if I tried. </p><p>I have been putting off responding to your other question. I do not have a chosen family the way you mean. I have a good relationship with my publisher Lucy (most of the time, anyway, I don’t listen to her nearly as much as she’d prefer), and I’m quite friendly with the owner of my favorite cafe, Madam Tracy’s. No one else makes quite such good tea. Her husband Shadwell is what you might call A Character. And of course there are my students, who constantly give me new ideas to work with and questions to answer. Even if sometimes those questions are just “why would you think that was a good plan” over and over. </p><p>Of course I also have my azaleas and other plants, and my snake, Linguini. My real company, I suppose, is in the pages of my books, both <em> my </em>books and the books that I own. My mother used to say that you’re never alone if you have a good book, and I suppose that is one matter on which we still agree. </p><p>I suppose this letter makes me sound quite melancholy, but I assure you that I’m hardly languishing in loneliness over here. I am rather like Linguini in that I’d generally prefer to curl up under a rock or in the sunshine than have an abundance of noise and stimulation all the time. One thing I value deeply in a partner is understanding the importance of shared silence, simply being able to sit together in a room doing separate things, and not needing to share every single detail of one’s activities. I have not yet found that in a friend or partner, but perhaps one day I will. </p><p>Sincerely,</p><p>Crowley</p><hr/><p>Dear Crowley, </p><p>Thank you for the costume idea and for your thoughts on the megillah! I share your thinking about Vashti, but I had not thought before about just how silly the autobiography as sleep aid is, and found myself giggling at the thought in the middle of services. Luckily, it being Purim, no one judged me for it. I’ve attached a picture of our group costume for your enjoyment.</p><p>Now with Purim out of the way.... If it’s not too presumptuous, would you like to come to Seder next month? No pressure at all, I completely understand if you prefer to avoid holidays entirely, or if you have other Seder plans already. I know as well as anyone what excellent company books can be, and I will trust you regarding azaleas and snakes, but perhaps for Seder you’d prefer some company that will argue back. </p><p>Best,</p><p>Esther </p><hr/><p>Esther,</p><p>Thank you for the kind invitation, but I would not want to impose upon your family. </p><p>The picture was charming. I presume that’s Anathema dressed in blue? I do not recognize the reference. </p><p>C</p><hr/><p>Dear Crowley,</p><p>It wouldn’t be an imposition at all! We regularly end up with a variety of guests from Anathema’s students to strangers who asked the rabbi to help them find a good Seder, so we're never quite sure how many people are coming until we all sit down. Aside from that, I have so enjoyed your insights, humor, and stories these last weeks, and I can’t imagine a better Seder guest than you. </p><p>Of course, if there’s another reason you’d prefer not to, I respect that entirely. But don’t hold back for our sake. If nothing else, I assure you that Warlock and Adam would love a chance to talk some more. And Newt’s brisket is a temptation all on its own. </p><p>Sincerely,</p><p>Esther</p><p>P.S. Yes, that’s Anathema. She’s dressed as Stitch, from the Disney movie <em> Lilo &amp; Stitch, </em>which despite (or perhaps because of) being designed for small children, never fails to make me tear up at least a little. I would blame the number of times I’ve seen it on Pepper, who wanted to watch it exclusively for about a year, but in truth, I’d seen it several times even before then. How could I fail to love a little blue alien learning how to live in a society, be part of a family, to manage his destructive impulses? I definitely recommend it, but bring tissues. </p><hr/><p>Dear Esther, </p><p>Well, if there’s going to be brisket, then. Consider me tempted. </p><p>C</p><p>P.S. “Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten?" That’s...one way to define that word, I suppose. I should have listened to you about the tissues. </p><hr/><p>Dear Crowley,</p><p>Oh, excellent! I can hardly wait! And I do not say that about Passover very often— I’m fond of Seder but far less fond of going more than a week without bread, cake, biscuits, pastries, tarts, and so on. </p><p>Warmly,</p><p>Esther</p><p>P.S. “This is my family. I found it, all on my own. It's little, and broken, but still good. Yeah. Still good.” Ugly tears, every time. </p><p>P.P.S. Speaking of ugly tears— I finished <em> No Opposite in Fear </em> over Shabbos, and that scene with Zira just...giving away her beloved spaceship so the refugees she just met could all escape? A spaceship she very much still needed, and that had been given to her by her vanished mother? And Antonia discovering Zira’s crashed ship later and believing that she was dead, oh Lord. That passage about mourning the words left unspoken hit me hard. So very many ugly tears. I’ve already ordered <em> Mere Force is Feebleness</em>, and so help me, if Antonia and Zira do not <em> express their feelings </em>one way or another you may force me into something drastic. Like fanfiction.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Genesis 2:18: And the LORD God said, "It is not good for the man to be alone."</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Nisan (April)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dear Esther,</p><p>Many thanks again for inviting me to your wonderful seder. It’s amazing what one remembers even after many years, sitting down again to a familiar ritual, and what new things one can discover in territory one had thought long since excavated. </p><p>It was also lovely to get to meet your family, though I felt I almost knew them already from your writing. Pepper’s comments about the midwives and standing up to fascism were remarkably astute for anyone, let alone a child of her age. Newt seems like such a sweetheart, though I’m afraid I didn’t get to speak with him as much as I would have liked, between talking to the young folk and his frequent trips to the kitchen. (Trips that were, I feel compelled to add, clearly successful, as not only was the brisket accurately advertised, but the charoset, potatoes, brussels sprouts, broccoli, and, of course, the matzo ball soup were delectable as well.)</p><p>I’m so glad Warlock was able to make it. They mentioned their parents wouldn’t have let them if it hadn’t conveniently been on a weekend this year, and it simply wouldn’t have been the same without their commentary. I wish even half my students approached class with the kind of curiosity and willingness to dive deep as Adam and Warlock brought to the haggadah. </p><p>I also particularly enjoyed the argument with Anathema about the Four Children. I’m still deeply uncomfortable with the text, as I think the wicked child is unfairly categorized and unfairly treated, and I’m not convinced that she’s at all right about the motivation of the authors, but I will concede that there is something valuable and freeing about establishing a principle of refusing to engage with people who deny the fundamental basics of one’s freedom and identity. </p><p>She did say something rather odd as I was leaving though— something like “better an angry author than a cruel columnist, I suppose.” She added, “Righteously angry, that is,” when she realized I’d heard her, and I suppose there are worse accolades I could— and have— been given. Any idea what that was about, though? I rather felt I was missing something, as much as I admire her talent for off-the-cuff alliteration. </p><p>I hope the rest of your holiday is pleasant. Chin up, only another four days till you can have real cake again.</p><p>Your truly,</p><p>Crowley</p><hr/><p>Dear Crowley,</p><p>You beat me to it! I was just about to compose a letter to you, thanking you for deciding to come and add so much to our conversation. Your insights, and the clarity and vivid imagery with which you expressed them, brought the story to life and truly made it a night to remember. </p><p>I can explain Anathema’s comment, with my apologies. The “cruel columnist” to which she referred would be my most recent ex-girlfriend, Carmine, who is a journalist. I don’t know how closely you follow the London news, but she wrote an expose absolutely skewering a local “family values” politician, Harold Astur, that got a lot of attention a couple years back. I admired her way with words, and her willingness to speak truth to power, and relished the takedown of H. Astur, whom I despised for his efforts to pass legislation requiring parental approval for children to buy books on “sensitive” topics such as the existence of queer people. We got coffee, one thing led to another, I was smitten.</p><p>In retrospect, while delighting in her sharp wit, I had not realized that she was less discerning with targets of that wit than I would prefer. When she poked fun at me, I ignored the sting and laughed along, chastising myself for being oversensitive, like Gabriel would always say. It was when I took her to meet my chosen family after several months of dating that I realized my mistake. She zoned in on Newt’s insecurities and prodded at them, condescended to Pepper, flirted with Anathema in front of both me and Newt, and when Adam told her to bugger off, she would have slapped him if I hadn’t stopped her. Needless to say, I broke up with her immediately, but I deeply regret the time I wasted trying to meet her standards, as well as ever exposing my family to that hatefulness.</p><p>All of this to say: Anathema is under the misapprehension that we are dating, and was offering her tentative approval of you. My apologies again for the confusion and distress this may have caused you. I’ll be sure to correct her next time we talk. </p><p>On to what I actually wanted to write about: I finished <em> Mere Force is Feebleness. </em>It’s a bold choice to have the fourth book in a series be very nearly a prequel, but as so much of the book was told in the past, I will have to forgive you for Zira and Antonia’s continued failure to talk about their feelings, particularly in light of the history revealed. Antonia’s reluctance to trust Zira with that vulnerable part of herself makes much more sense now.</p><p>It was painful to see a character I loved as a hateful scion of a xenophobic empire, but her journey towards realizing that the outsiders were <em> people</em>, from appreciating their food to their art and culture and stories, and then the courage to look honestly at the lessons she’d been taught and realize her whole life was built on a foundation of hatred and lies. Her “Robin Hood” lifestyle that I’d just found entertaining in the second book becomes so much deeper when understood as an act of <em> teshuva</em>, of being faced with choices she’d screwed up in the past and choosing differently, of making reparations for the harm she’d done. </p><p>But they still better get it together soon, dammit. This slow burn has now smoldered for <em> twelve hundred pages</em>, Crowley, I am ready for some actual flames now. </p><p>Yours,</p><p>Esther </p><hr/><p>Dear Esther,</p><p>Ah. Thank you for the explanation. I suppose being seen as a better option than your ex is a very low bar to meet, but I am nonetheless glad that Anathema doesn’t think I’m <em> worse </em> than someone who behaved like that, even if she’s wrong in her starting assumptions. </p><p>I hope it is not too presumptuous of me to express my sincere gladness that you have parted ways with someone that unpleasant, not only for your family’s sake, but for yours as well. There can be no pleasing some people, no matter how hard you try, and your time and energy is far too valuable to waste on those who do not appreciate it. I am sure you will find company in the future that treats you and your loved ones with the respect you so richly deserve.</p><p>I’m so glad you’ve been enjoying <em> More Last Than Star. </em> It’s funny what things stay with you. I don’t think I was consciously using a <em> teshuva </em> framework when writing Zira’s character arc, but it was important to me that it not be a typical “redemption” arc, that it could not just be an emotional journey but one of action and reparations. It’s not enough to feel bad about the harm one has done, it requires making what reparations are possible, respect for the desires of the people one has harmed (especially respecting their choice not to forgive!) and, as you say, making different choices when faced with a similar situation in the future. So, all in all, very much <em> teshuva</em>, however unintentional it may have been.</p><p>I have been reflecting lately on the comment you made at seder, about Dayenu. It seems so clear to me that the poem is at least partially insincere— if, for example, the people had been freed, taken through the Red Sea, given the Torah, and then <em>not</em> given manna in the desert, they all would have died of hunger and it most certainly would not have been enough. That’s a question I asked even as a wee lad, to the chagrin of my parents. </p><p>But your framing— looking at the world as it is, agreeing that whatever "enough" is, we haven’t reached it yet, but that Dayenu demands the question, "what <em>would </em>be enough" — has been playing on repeat in my head for the last week and half. What would a world look like where I could honestly turn to God and say “very well, Hashem, we’ve got this from here, that’s enough, thanks very much”? </p><p>In typically Jewish fashion, I don’t have any answers yet. </p><p>All my best,</p><p>Crowley </p><p>P.S. No comment regarding any alleged "slow burn." You'll just have to finish the series. </p><hr/><p>Crowley,</p><p>Sorry for the delay in answering! It’s been very busy at the shop, getting caught up with all my work after my Passover vacation. I don’t have an answer for you either, though right now I’m inclined to think some particular good pastry would be enough at least for today. </p><p>(Sorry if that is too flippant a response to your profound and genuine reflection. Does it help if I say that I take pastry very seriously? And that I do so appreciate your thoughts?) </p><p>Please do not take Anathema’s comment as faint praise. She liked you very much and told me to be sure to invite you back anytime, regardless of relationship status. (Her phrasing, not mine.) </p><p>You are not at all too presumptuous! There was, indeed, no pleasing Carmine. She was not just competitive, she treated every interaction as a battle… and she <em> loved </em> to win. Or, perhaps more accurately, she <em> despised </em>losing. I so appreciate your insight and affirmation there, and I hope you are right in your confidence about my future companionship. </p><p>As perhaps you are aware, the Booksellers Association is having a conference in Cambridge in a couple weeks that I plan to attend. It’ll be good networking, especially to get the gossip on what upcoming books are expected to be big sellers, and there's supposed to be a talk about how to combat the monstrous all-consuming entity that is Amazon, but I always find the crowds exhausting. Would you like to meet up for lunch, if your schedule permits? As lovely as these emails are (they are so lovely!) it would be even better to speak with you in person, and I’m sure I will be quite grateful for the break from the programming. No hard feelings if you are too busy, of course. </p><p>Sincerely,</p><p>Esther</p><hr/><p>Dear Esther,</p><p>No worries about the delay, I understand how busy life gets! I may not be quite as enthused about pastry as you are, but I can acknowledge the satisfaction excellent food provides. My therapist says taking the smaller victories as moments of “enoughness” is healthy and responsible, so in order to do that, provide you with delicious food, answer your question, and gain the benefit of your company all in one answer: I would be delighted to get lunch with you when you’re in town. If you would be amenable, I’ll meet you at Madam Tracy’s, just a block or two over from where the conference will be held. I can assure you of the excellence of her patisserie. </p><p>(I am indeed aware of the conference. I’m not nearly a popular enough author to be invited, thank God, as I detest public speaking. Lucy will be attending, though). </p><p>Thank you for your reassurance regarding Anathema. I liked her very much, and even upon brief acquaintance, I quail to imagine being on her bad side. </p><p>I am also glad to know that I did not overstep any boundaries with my comments regarding your former paramour. I have come to value our correspondence and would not want to cause you any distress. I have met people who approach life with the warlike attitude you describe (indeed, my father fits that description rather well) and at risk of sounding too New Age-y about it, that’s simply not a joyous or positive energy to keep in one’s life. You should not be with anyone who makes you feel continuously on the defensive rather than firmly on your side, no matter how excellent her writing might be.</p><p>See you next week, hopefully. </p><p>Crowley</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Things I have researched so far for this work:<br/>-Jewish Garden of Eden interpretations<br/>-Cambridge's academic calendar<br/>-the Bookseller's Association, including their 2019 conference itinerary<br/>-brisket recipes</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Iyar (May)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dear Crowley,</p><p>Lunch with you truly made the whole trip to Cambridge worthwhile. Oh, not that the conference wasn’t <em> useful</em>, I suppose, but the overwhelming focus on maximizing profit makes me feel rather...grubby, if you know what I mean. We all exist in a capitalist system, of course, and are forced to comply with that to satisfy our basic needs, but it’s not like I went into the book business for <em> money</em>, you know, and it makes me feel all itchy to spend so much time talking about it. </p><p>Talking with you, on the other hand, made me feel just the opposite. (What is the opposite of itchy? Soothed, perhaps? Comfortable? You’re the writer, you tell me.) </p><p>I admit Madam Tracy’s was not at all what I was picturing, but that chocolate raspberry petit four was rivaled only by the lemon meringue cupcake. I shall have to return to sample the rest of the display case, one by one, so I can establish a proper ranking. For science, as Adam would say.</p><p>I would apologize for snickering as Madam Tracy clucked over you, but I try not to lie to people I care about, and I’m not sorry. It was hilarious. </p><p>One bone to pick with you, though— when you were listing things that give you companionship (your books, the azaleas, Linguini, etc.) I cannot believe you failed to mention that car of yours! I had noticed it parked on the street, of course, but had not realized it was <em> yours </em>till I saw you unlocking it as I was heading back to the conference. You may try to tell me you do not love that vehicle, but I will not believe you. No one has such a pristine vintage Bentley unless they truly care for it. Wherever did you get it? Do you know who restored it? Newt’s been attempting car restoration for ages now but unfortunately anything he works on has a tendency to overheat and then explode. I’m sure he’d love to speak to whomever managed so beautifully with your Bentley.</p><p>Wishing you all the best,</p><p>Esther</p><hr/><p>Esther,</p><p><em> Itchiness </em>is the insistent stabbing irritation of a mosquito bite that demands your attention while knowing full well that scratching will only make it worse, the too-tight texture of new clothes against your skin when stuck at a formal event with hours to go, the prickling grime all over your body after a hike on a humid day. </p><p>It follows, then, that the<em> opposite </em>of itchiness is the familiarity of a fuzzy pair of slippers molded to your feet by the years, a lengthy luxurious shower followed by sliding bare skin between satin sheets, the first spoonful of matzo ball soup filling up your stomach and soul with warmth and knowing that there is an entire pot still to be eaten. </p><p>Forgive me, that may have been excessive. You presented me with a writing challenge, and I can never resist a dare. If that is just one fraction of what you intended to convey about how I make you feel, I am honored indeed. For what it’s worth, it is a fair approximation of how I feel around you. </p><p>I’m so glad the pastry met with your approval. I’d be glad to be your research partner for such a vital investigation. For science, of course. </p><p>May I ask what you <em> were </em> expecting from Madam Tracy’s? </p><p>You caught me. I confess: I do love the Bentley, and I am the one who did the restoration. It was a passion project over years, what I worked on for stress relief between writing my first novel, grubbing along for my degree,  and working at a succession of miserable jobs to pay the bills. I’d be happy to talk with Newt about it sometime, feel free to pass on my contact information to him. </p><p>But enough about me, I’d rather hear more about you. You didn’t get into bookselling for the money, granted, but why did you? I have my guesses, but I want to hear it in your words. Do I remember correctly you mentioning that A-Z is a family institution? If so, why you, and not one of your siblings or cousins, if you have any? </p><p>I admire your patience, I must admit— the brief time I worked in retail taught me that I hate people far too much to work in customer service of any kind, as much as I like the thought of being surrounded by books all the time. What’s your favorite thing about working in the shop? Your least favorite?</p><p>My regards to the rest of your people. </p><p>Best,</p><p>Crowley</p><hr/><p>My dear Crowley,</p><p>Excessive? Heaven forbid. Overwhelming? Mildly. I tremble at the thought of trying to match your lyric prose, but let me assure you that I certainly match the sentiment. </p><p>I suppose I was expecting your favorite cafe to match your general style— all sleek blacks and silvers, polished, smooth. I was not expecting it to be quite so... pink, and I certainly was not expecting it to have stuffed animals as centerpieces on the tables. It is refreshing to have one’s expectations recalibrated once in a while, and I found it quite cozy and delightful. Somehow, Mme Tracy has cultivated an environment that feels entirely safe. You know, I overheard at least two different people confiding to her about lost loved ones just in the hour we were sitting there? She has a very comforting vibe. I can see why you like coming there so much, even aside from the excellence of the menu.</p><p>You restored the Bentley yourself?! I don’t know very much about cars, but I know enough to know that that is extremely impressive. Perhaps I ought to have guessed you had experience with such things from the mechanic scenes in <em>More Last Than Star</em>, but it did not occur to me. You should be getting an email from Newt any day now with some questions for you, though I must caution you not to click any links he might send. Newt has a positive <em> gift </em> for picking up various computer viruses by accident and passing them along. </p><p>A-Z is a family business, yes. My great-grandfather founded it shortly after arriving from Russia with a trunkload of books, one change of clothes, and some savings sewn into the lining of my great-grandmother’s dress. He passed it to his only son, my grandfather, who ran it for the next several decades. Papa lived to be nearly a hundred, and by the time he passed, his three children were not only well-established in their own careers, the eldest had already begun planning her own retirement, and none of them had any interest in taking over a bookshop. </p><p>Indeed, the family had been tentatively planning to sell the property— the real estate value has skyrocketed since Papa finished paying off the mortgage decades ago— but Papa left the property to me, and I refused. Why me, you ask? Gabriel would have you believe that I was Papa’s favorite merely because I happened to be the one named after his beloved wife, but I believe it was simpler than that: I was the one who wanted it. </p><p>My cousins and siblings and I all grew up in the shop, stopping by after school till our parents were done at work, helping out with the shelving and at the register. They all spent a summer or two working there in high school, with mixed complaints or enjoyment, but I never wanted anything else. I took business classes in college solely with A-Z in mind, I accompanied Papa on trips to speak with publishers and authors, and I spent all my summers in college working at the shop. I hadn’t expected to be the sole inheritor, but it has always been my plan to work there. I had already started taking over some of the day-to-day administration when Papa passed away about fifteen years ago. </p><p>With a few exceptions, the family accepted Papa’s decision fairly graciously. I think most of them felt quite guilty over the thought of selling the business Papa and his father loved so much, and were rather relieved that I’d volunteered to take on the burden, maintaining the beloved place so that their children would be able to visit it, too. The independent book business is not an easy one, to be sure, especially with the rise of big chains and online sales. </p><p>So why do I love it so much? </p><p>Are you familiar with the tradition that a person who successfully sets up a couple is assured of their place in the world to come? That, albeit to a lesser extent, is how I feel about setting people up with the perfect book. From the vaguest of requests (“I’m looking for something… beautiful?”) to the most specific ones (“queer coming-of-age fantasy with a sarcastic main character and a happily ever after”) to the most heartbreaking ones (“my dad died suddenly, I need a sad book that will ultimately make me feel hopeful and less lost,”) I take great joy in finding exactly what a person needs to read at that moment. My very favorite thing is getting return customers with follow-up requests because it means I have <em>earned</em> their trust, whereas previously trusting my recommendation was a risk. Maybe it is not exactly introducing a person to their soulmate, but it does make me feel like an angel performing little miracles all day. </p><p>I know, it’s unbearable soppy, but you asked, and that is my honest answer. </p><p>My least favorite part is handling the accounts.</p><p>Sincerely,</p><p>Esther</p><p>P.S. You can’t fool me, I’ve read your books. You don’t hate people at all, you adore them. </p><hr/><p>Dear Esther,</p><p>Or should I call you “angel” instead? It certainly does sound like you do holy work, and bring light and joy and comfort to so many people’s lives. I did ask, and you answered, and I did not find it unbearably soppy so much as highly admirable. </p><p>Thank you for sharing with me about your Papa. He sounds like a remarkable man. I am glad you were able to have so many years with him. I am confident that he chose well in appointing you as his successor, and anyone who thinks otherwise can go hang. </p><p>It’s not an accident that Madam Tracy’s is so comforting. Some of it is just her presence, but some of it is a very deliberate investigation of what kinds of things— decor, lighting, color— tend to make people feel safe and cozy. She told me one time that the only people who find stuffed animals and pink walls threatening are a certain subset of masculinity-obsessed men who set up a million fences to protect their fragile egos the way the Talmudic rabbis set up fences to protect the Torah (my metaphor, not hers) and she’s quite content to ward them off. That is, admittedly, part of the attraction for me in lingering there. I’ve never met anyone quite so deliberate in managing people’s sensory experience and expectations than Tracy. Thank God she uses it for good. I dread to think what she could accomplish if she set out to have the same sort of intimidating-all-hail-me sort of atmosphere that, say, Lucy goes for. </p><p>(“Real Men are made of stone and need no comforting or softness, therefore I must get rid of my childhood comfort objects, and in fact I should not even go <em> near </em>a stuffed animal lest someone suspect I might not be a Real Man” has some of the same thought-patterns as “We’re not allowed to boil a goat in its mother’s milk, therefore we shouldn’t ever have any milk and meat together, and in fact we should only cook them on separate dishes lest they possibly mix." Not that being extra cautious about breaking a principle is a bad thing— it just depends on what the principle in question is.) </p><p>I hope your week has been going well. </p><p>Sincerely,</p><p>Crowley</p><p>P.S. What slander is this? Oh, very well, I love humanity, I hate people. There’s a difference. Humanity is endlessly fascinating, deeply creative, capable of acts of such great love and heroism. People are rude, self-absorbed, grubby little creatures who are mostly petty rather than good or evil, with a handful of exceptions (e..g, you, Tracy, and Newt, who has sent me some very sweet and definitely virus-ridden emails about vintage car shows). </p><hr/><p>Dear Crowley,</p><p>Thank you for your kind words. I’m sure Papa would have liked you. He also thought of this as a holy job. I'm bookmarking that email so I can come back to it on days when I forget why I do this work. </p><p>Oh, sure, you hate people. I definitely believe you, and that definitely fits with<em> More First Than Sun</em>, the stunning conclusion to your epic space opera in which the infinite power of love to overcome evil, indifference, and selfishness is central. I retract all my complaining about the slowburn, which paid off so magnificently it was— please forgive me the pun— the incandescent plasma blaze of the sun rather than the fire I was hoping for. <em> More Last Than Star</em>, indeed. Truly a romantic love story for the ages, while never for a minute losing sight of the vital importance of the other kinds of love so life-giving for the characters. It is absolutely the work of someone who— allow me to check my notes—  “hates people.” I think e.e. cummings would be proud, if perhaps a bit confused. </p><p>I actually laughed out loud at your comments about fragile masculinity. It’s sad, really. People miss out on so much joy when they are so invested in their image. I would like to slap any adult to ever tell a child that boys don’t cry or to “man up” or make jokes about objectifying women to one’s teenager, as Warlock’s father did this past weekend. Warlock felt awful for not calling him out on his gross sexism, but Adam and I assured them that doing so would not have successfully changed their father’s mind at all and it's good to prioritize their own safety. The poor duck knows it would just make their father turn on them, but they still feel terrible about the whole thing. </p><p>Thaddeas Dowling is definitely the sort of man who would not deign to enter a pink and lacy cafe. I cannot slap him, but I will take comfort in the knowledge that missing out on Madam Tracy’s pastry is truly its own punishment. </p><p>I, on the other hand, am even more eager than before to find a time to return to Madam Tracy’s and sample the pastry, particularly with you as my research partner. </p><p>Yours,</p><p>Esther</p><hr/><p>Angel,</p><p>Sorry for the delay, I’m swamped. End of term, and such. My students surely would not believe your assertion as to my character, and I’d thank you not to tell them— I have a reputation to maintain. </p><p>Sadly, finding me intimidating and worthy of respect has not currently been enough to keep my students from submitting cliche-ridden drivel. So many papers to grade.</p><p>Hope you have a lovely Shavuot— I know I’m a little early, but I probably won’t be able to get back to you till after, between grading and editing and researching. </p><p>C</p><p>P.S. Is Warlock doing alright? The more I hear about their parents, the more concerned I get. </p><p>P.P.S. I’m glad you liked the books. Really. Reading you write about my writing is… well, my brain is mush and I just don’t have the words for it right now, but just— thanks. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The series and book title of Crowley's space opera come from this poem by e.e. cummings:</p><p>being to timelessness as it’s to time,<br/>love did no more begin than love will end;<br/>where nothing is to breathe to stroll to swim<br/>love is the air the ocean and the land</p><p>(do lovers suffer? all divinities<br/>proudly descending put on deathful flesh:<br/>are lovers glad? only their smallest joy’s<br/>a universe emerging from a wish)</p><p>love is the voice under all silences,<br/>the hope which has no opposite in fear;<br/>the strength so strong mere force is feebleness:<br/>the truth more first than sun more last than star</p><p>—do lovers love? why then to heaven with hell.<br/>Whatever sages say and fools, all’s well</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Sivan (June)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dear Crowley,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shavuot was lovely, thank you. It will take me all week to return to my normal sleep schedule, but it was worth it for the conversation, the debate, watching the sunrise as Newt read the Ten Commandments, and, of course, the cheese cake. Although we have only spent a handful of hours actually in each other’s company, more than once I found myself wishing you were there. I am sure that you would have had fascinating things to say about a particular text or question someone raised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that utterly selfish goal exposed, would you care to come to London for a Shabbat dinner once your term is over and your grades are all in? I bet I could convince Newt to make brisket again. He has been gushing to me about some tips you sent him. Apparently, he spent an entire day last weekend working on the car and did not set a single fire, a record for which he says we have you to thank. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Good luck with all your work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All my best,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Esther</span>
</p><p>
  <span>P.S. Warlock is persevering. There was brief hope that their mother might prove to be a help, but alas, she’s more concerned about her child embarrassing her in front of her tea group than she is about her child. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Dear Esther,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mary tells me I should believe people when they say they want to spend time with me and not waste everyone’s time and energy turning down invitations that I want to accept because I do not believe I am actually wanted. She also says that you, in particular, have earned that trust from me. Mary is, as always, irritatingly correct about everything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So this time I will skip the whole demurral thing, and go straight to saying: Shabbos with you and yours sounds lovely, especially with brisket on offer. It’ll take me another week to finish everything up, but the Shabbos after next would be wonderful, if that works for you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I really do need to get out of Cambridge, and I’ve been intending to visit the British Library for research purposes, anyway, if I have to justify such a trip to Lucy or anyone else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I am flattered that you thought of me on Shavuos, but feel I must disillusion you: I would not have had any great insights to share as I am hardly coherent after midnight, let alone by sunrise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sincerely,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>C</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Dear Crowley,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I feel I should buy your therapist a pastry, or something. I am glad you have her support, and that you have decided to trust me in this. I assure you that I only invite people I genuinely want around for Shabbat, and that I very much do want you around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Let me also add that you are an independent adult and are not required to justify trips you take on your free time to anyone, including yourself. That it brings you joy, as I hope it will, is enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Have you spent much time in the British Library? It will likely not surprise you to hear that it is one of my very favorite places. Sometimes I go just to sit in the presence of the accumulated knowledge. It is a heady feeling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In particular, the Treasures Gallery is so incredible. The First Folio, right across from the original Alice in Wonderland drafts! Jane Austen’s writing desk! The Golden Haggadah and other illuminated manuscripts! When I went with Anathema when it first opened, she said, “Any one of these works would be worthy of a pilgrimage, and here they are, all together.” Forgive me for verging on idolatry, but she was not wrong. It is a holy, sacred, place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking forward to seeing you!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Best,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Esther</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Angel,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brain fried. So much grading. Students exhausting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Meet in Treasures Gallery Friday around 3, if you can? Maybe for coffee afterwards? Would like to have some one-on-one time to unwind before dinner with the whole mishpacha. As much as I like your mishpacha. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yours,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>C</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Crowley,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’ll see you then! Sounds lovely. Hope your brain recovers speedily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Esther</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Dear Esther,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I know you won’t see this till after Shabbat, but I want to offer you several thank yous and one very sincere apology. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>First, the general gratitude: Thank you again for such a wonderful weekend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next, some specifics: You are right that seeing all those manuscripts in one room is something holy and sacred, (the Magna Carta! A Gutenberg Bible! Gandhi’s letter to Churchill!) and I could not have asked for a better companion on that pilgrimage than you. Thank you for taking the time from your busy schedule to share that joy with me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thank you for introducing me to your favorite coffee shop, indulging me even on erev Shabbat by having some time to relax, and sharing your stories with me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thank you for sharing your family with me, for a wonderful dinner with even better company. It was such a pleasure to get to know everyone more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thank you for letting me crash in your spare room after I had too much wine. It was very kind of you to welcome me into your house on such short notice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And finally, the apology: I am sorry for sneaking out early this morning before you awoke. I received an urgent summons back to Cambridge for a meeting, but that is no excuse for repaying your generous hospitality by vanishing on you, particularly on a day when I knew you would be off the grid. I realized nearly immediately that the note I dashed off was inadequate, and I am sorry for any worry this caused you. I am safe, and well, and very much regret being unable to spend the rest of Shabbat in your company.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sincerely,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This chapter brought to you by a trip to London last summer that seems like a million years ago, where I could have spent the whole week in the Treasures Gallery of the British Library.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Tamuz (July)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warning: discussion of TERFs.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>My dear Crowley,</p><p>While I admit I had been rather concerned and, perhaps, rather irritated by your disappearance without even four whole words of farewell letter, I had completely forgiven you just a couple sentences into your letter, before even reaching your apology. </p><p>Indeed, any negative feelings I may have had were far more in the realm of disappointment at not having more time with you than a haughty disdain for your (admittedly poor) manners. Having had such a terribly pleasant time with you on Friday, I felt rather like a child promised and then denied ice cream to be denied your company on Shabbat. This said to emphasize my fondness for you, not to make you feel guilty— I have, as I said, forgiven you completely. </p><p>Would you be able to explain why you had to run off so precipitously? An urgent meeting on Saturday sounds rather alarming. I of course understand if it is confidential or private— you are under no obligation to satisfy my curiosity, as long as you promise to tell me if there is anything at all I can do to support you. I admit to being a rather nosy individual, but I hope you know that in this, it is rooted in my concern for your wellbeing. </p><p>As much as I enjoyed our individual conversations in the library and the café, it was a great delight just to be an observer to your conversation with Adam and Warlock. Thank you for treating them with such respect. I have higher expectations of you, of course, but adults so often just humor teens, at best, and condescend to or ignore them, at… well, not quite worst, but far from best. Adam has complained to me several times about teachers and others who do not really listen to his thoughts because they believe that a teenager could not have anything worthwhile to say. You, on the other hand, thoroughly listened, admitted when you lacked necessary knowledge for making a judgment, and shared honestly of yourself in a way that showed them trust and respect. </p><p>Warlock, in particular, blossomed with your attention. You cannot have known, but Warlock rarely makes jokes, too afraid of an adult taking it personally. After you laughed so delightedly (a lesser author might compare the sound to bells, but I am no author at all, and will merely say that it was a joyful and precious sound) when they let that first quip slip out, they allowed themselves to open up and joke more. Thank you ever so much for giving them that safe space and encouragement. </p><p>I do hope everything is alright in Cambridge. </p><p>Sincerely,</p><p>Esther</p>
<hr/><p>Angel,</p><p>I am so very relieved to have your forgiveness. It has been so long since there was anyone’s forgiveness that I actually wanted, I am afraid I am rather out of practice with apologizing.</p><p>No thanks are necessary for the time I spent with Warlock and Adam. I thought about what you said some time ago, about being the kind of aunt you wish you’d had. If I had had an adult like me when I was that age… well, I might not have needed quite so much therapy, let’s just say that, and I am glad to be that adult for them. </p><p>Principles and all aside, though, it was no chore to chat with the young folks. They are both smarter than most adults I have to deal with, for one, and I love seeing how their minds work as they learn and grow, for another. For a third, they’re just cool kids. Warlock genuinely made me laugh, and Adam terrifies me in all the best ways. </p><p>Nothing tragic has happened, though it was fairly urgent. Lucy says blogs are starting to speculate about my identity and nobody is thrilled, as though they have some grounding to have any kind of feelings about who I am. I have historically refused to answer questions about my identity at all, though it’s been rather assumed (not incorrectly) that I’m some flavor of queer, given all the queer content in my novels. </p><p>But <em> Call It Good </em>was a risk. I knew it when I wrote it, I knew it in editing, I knew it when it went for publication, but I could not look myself in the mirror if I cut out the parts that were the main reason why I wanted to write the book in the first place. </p><p>Admittedly, I had expected the main backlash to be from Christian evangelical types, for daring to ignore their supersessionist interpretation of my own sacred books, and I thought I was prepared for that. It’s not like I had particular readership among those circles previously. </p><p>But Adam, clever as he is, was not the only one to pick up on the trans undertones, and it’s beginning to boil up. The TERFs are starting to wonder if I’ve been an imposter this whole time and should be removed from their lists of feminist writers, and there are trans activists unhappy with having the mythological Mother of <em> Demons </em>with trans resonances for reasons that are obvious in retrospect, and everyone wants to know by what right I assert such things, so they can run me out of feminism with tar and feathers or laud me as “#ownvoices.” </p><p>In short: Lucy wanted to discuss my plans for officially coming out. She thinks it would be best to get “ahead of the narrative,” give some long interview with a book reviewer and come out as part of that. She did let slip that she expects all this “controversy” to boost sales, if nothing else. </p><p>It is my decision, of course. Lucy is ruthless and opinionated, but if she outed me, I would not be the only author she’d lose. But I do not know what decision to make. None of these people are entitled to my identity, but I surely don’t want anyone to think that I think trans folks are demonic, except in that I think demons get a bad rap and are rather awesome, actually. Yet, the British “gender critical” movement or whatever they call themselves is frightening and maddening, and I quail at the thought of exposing myself to their vitriol. </p><p>Then again, I keep thinking about that teenage me, clutching <em> Left Hand of Darkness, </em>and Warlock and Adam beaming at me at the Shabbos table. Forget a single supportive adult, if I had even had an author or public figure with my particular lineup of identities to look up to, what a difference that would have made. If I could be that person for others, is that worth my own loss of privacy and security? </p><p>I admit I am at a loss, and would welcome your thoughts, one way or another. What do you think I should do?</p><p>Yours,</p><p>C</p><p>P.S. Angel, I hope you know that even if my alternative had been something other than sitting in a room with my publisher and a couple PR people to discuss plans for potentially revealing my most intimate secrets to an unfriendly world, I would have chosen a leisurely Shabbat in your company over practically anything else. </p>
<hr/><p>Crowley,</p><p>Oh, Crowley. That is so unfair. I find myself incensed on your behalf. How dare anyone make such demands of you? Your writing is a gift to the world, and it is monstrous for people to come after you like this. I cannot say I am at all impressed with your publisher for thinking about your sacred selfhood as a <em> marketing opportunity</em>. Coming out is a choice that belongs only to you, and it should be a thing of joy and freedom, not… whatever all that is, and that choice should not be taken away from you by anything or anyone.</p><p>Therefore, I cannot, in good conscience, urge you to make a choice in one or another, as it is not at all for me to say. I will, however, say that I think your predictions are accurate. I do think you will face vitriol and harassment from the gender critical crowd, which includes some prominent people in your field. I also think you will inspire and give hope to queer people, especially queer Jews, of all ages. For what it’s worth, you have already inspired me. </p><p>I am here for you, whatever you need.</p><p>Yours,</p><p>Esther</p>
<hr/><p>Esther,</p><p>Now who is politely demurring after a reasonable request? Your support means more to me than sunshine, and I would not have asked for you advice if I did not truly want it. My therapist says I should “prioritize my well-being,” though she stopped short of saying I should stay closeted, just that that’s the metric I should be using to make my choice. Is my well-being best served by refusing to expose my vulnerabilities to people who want to hurt me, or is it best served by being publicly and fully my most authentic self? Is that even the question I ought to be asking? Maybe I should be asking if I have a moral obligation to tell TERFs to go fuck themselves. Do I? I just don’t know.</p><p>Please, I really do want to hear your thoughts. </p><p>Crowley</p>
<hr/><p>My dear Crowley,</p><p>In the traditions of our people, I still will not give you a clear answer, but I will give you some alternate questions. </p><p>First: Why did you write <em> Call It Good</em>? You told me first that you wrote it for yourself, above all, as the story you wish you’d had when you were younger. You have accomplished that entirely, and could reasonably be done, letting the book stand for itself.</p><p>You also said that “the entire book was a <em> fuck you </em> to my parents, to their misogyny, their homophobia, their transphobia— to the ways in which they tried to write me and people like me out of Judaism and out of existence, when we’ve been here from the very very beginning.” (Email chains are very convenient for finding relevant quotes.) Crowley, dear heart, just by writing this book and releasing it to the world, you have <em> already </em> told transphobes to go fuck themselves. You do not have to do more.    </p><p>Second: What would it look like to be publicly and fully your most authentic self? How much do you want that?</p><p>Third: Given that there is <em> already </em> vitriol against you, though nothing on the scale of what may happen were you to come out, what steps can you take to protect yourself? Is your address publicly accessible? Do your supervisors at the university know, and will they stand by you? Has your publisher, who is pushing this risky proposal, committed to defending you? What support network do you have, if this goes bad?</p><p>I hope that helps, and that you know to count not only me but Anathema, Newt, and co. in your support network. </p><p>All my best,</p><p>Esther</p>
<hr/><p>Angel,</p><p>I wrote <em> Call It Good </em> to write myself back into the narrative, and I will be damned if they write me out of it again.</p><p>It’s time to live authentically, I suppose.</p><p>Thank you for your advice, and your support. </p><p>Crowley</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Just a note to make it clear that I am with Esther-- coming out is a choice that belongs solely to you, and it should be one of joy and freedom, and your safety comes first. Crowley's choice is about who she is, and should not be interpreted as putting pressure on anyone else to make a similar choice. </p><p>This was supposed to be posted on National Coming Out Day, but blame God for the delay, there was too much chag this month.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Av (August)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the long delay! As you may recall, the last chapter ended with Crowley's decision to publicly come out as trans. </p><p>CW for discussion of abusive and transphobic parents</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>My dear Crowley,</p><p>I am honored to be your friend. You have my support in any way you need it. </p><p>Sincerely,</p><p>Esther</p>
<hr/><p>Dear Esther,</p><p>Well, I did a thing. Interview to be published later this week. Goodbye privacy, hello authenticity, or something like that, anyway. Really, Linguini has the right idea, just curl up in a sunbeam, eat once a week, don’t get all bothered by expectations. </p><p>It wasn’t such an ordeal as I’d imagined, just a very lovely woman who had read the book and had many questions, not only about me but about the traditional commentaries, Jewish folklore, and my inspiration. She didn’t even push when I declined to talk about my actual transition. </p><p>We’ll just have to wait and see what she writes, though. Ugh, anxiety, so stupid. Nothing I can do about it now. </p><p>You know, it hadn’t even occurred to me until after the night after the interview when I went outside and saw the new moon, but it’s Av now. I had such a shudder when I realized. You think you’ve shed all the neuroses and superstitions you grew up with as you get older like Linguini wriggling out of her skin ‘til you’re nearly forty and freak out at the potential bad luck of making a life-changing decision during the 9 days. Not that I <em> really </em> think the time leading up to the anniversary of the destruction of the Temple is that much unluckier than any other time, but, well. It’s a hard feeling to shake, that something terrible is bound to happen. And historically, 9 Av really does seem to get a disproportionate amount of bad shit. </p><p>Ignore me, I’m horribly morbid and morose tonight.   </p><p>I miss you. </p><p>Crowley</p>
<hr/><p>Dear Crowley,</p><p>Oh, I do wish I could send a hug through the internet. It sounds like your interviewer was lovely, and I am sure it will all turn out okay. You have a lot of people in London rooting for you. </p><p>I understand where you’re coming from. It is rather spooky how many tragedies in Jewish history show up in that week, or even just on that day. Admittedly, some of the more recent ones (meaning the last few centuries, given the multi-millennial scale of the time span under discussion) occurred in part because the anti-Semites clued in to realizing we were anxious about it and enjoyed compounding such trauma, because that is what awful people do. </p><p>Oh dear, I intended to be reassuring, and instead I went on about history. I suppose I am not feeling optimistic enough about the state of the world to provide proper reassurance. Adam’s been moping about the shop all morning. Apparently Warlock broke up with him, and his general aura of tragic teenage gloom is hard to avoid. </p><p>For what it is worth, I do get hope from knowing that there are people like you out there, inspiring people, sharing truth, and making the world a better place through your words. </p><p>Hugs,</p><p>Esther </p>
<hr/><p>Esther,</p><p>Thanks. It is worth rather a lot to me, to know you feel that way. </p><p>I’ve attached the link to the article. It came out today. I am feeling… lighter, I think. Like a weight has been lifted. I do feel like I am now at the mercy of what buffeting winds may come, but I am less in danger of metaphorically drowning, if that makes any sense at all. Diedre Young did quite a respectable job. I feel seen, and I am not sure I like it. </p><p>Anyway. Here you go. </p><p>C</p><p>P.S. Please give my best to Adam, and to Warlock if you see them. It doesn’t matter how old you are— heartbreak always sucks. </p>
<hr/><p>Crowley,</p><p>What a wonderful piece! I do so love hearing you speak about your writing process, your passion, and your research. </p><p>You know, I keep thinking about what it would have been like to read that article if you had decided not to come to the shop in the winter. I am confident I would have come across it, as a lover of literature in general and <em> Call It Good </em>in particular, and I know I would have been delighted by the interview and empathized with much of your discussion of being queer and Jewish, but I just feel so blessed to have the benefit of hearing some of the more personal anecdotes and to know some of what fits into the subtext of your comments. It makes me sad for that alternate Esther who has no idea what she’s missing, going through the day without waiting for anything special every time the email inbox dings, to whom you would now be a slightly-less-mysterious literary hero, rather than a beloved and cherished friend. </p><p>It’s a lot of words just to say: Thank you for taking a chance on me and choosing to trust me with your precious self. I am grateful and happy to have you in my life. </p><p>Yours,</p><p>Esther</p><p>P.S. Adam nodded heavily when I passed on the message. Haven’t heard from Warlock, though I dropped them a line to say that they’re always welcome, regardless of their relationship status. </p><p>P.P.S. The A.J. stands for <em>Ashtoret Jael?</em> I respect your preference to only use Crowley, of course, but I am somehow both surprised and feel like I ought to have guessed. Of course you would choose a name that is both Biblical and, well, rebellious. A pagan deity of love and war, and a woman famous for seducing and then assassinating an oppressive general with a tent peg? Even without the rest of interview, the name alone gives me a clearer picture of your younger self. I wish your sci-fi stories were true enough that I could build myself a time machine and go protect the child that you were. </p>
<hr/><p>Dear Crowley, </p><p>I imagine your inbox is rather a disaster this week, given the interview and all, but I just wanted to check in and make sure you were doing alright. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. </p><p>Sincerely,</p><p>Esther</p>
<hr/><p>Crowley,</p><p>Dreadfully sorry if I’m coming off as annoying, or if I came off too strongly in expressing my feelings for you previously. I did second-guess my decision to comment on your name nearly immediately, and I know the time machine comment was far too much. I merely wanted you to know that you are cared for, but I can take a hint and will back off if that is what you prefer. </p><p>I would not keep emailing you except that an emergency has come up. Warlock has gone missing. I believe they ran away. Their father came storming around the shop this morning and didn’t seem to believe me when I explained that I haven’t seen the child in a couple weeks now. I could hardly explain that they dumped my nephew when their parents were under the assumption that the teenagers considered themselves siblings.</p><p>(Twins, even, they share a birthday, they’ll both be 18 in a few weeks. But the point is that Warlock has been closeted to their parents, so I had to be extra careful not to out them while freaking out over their wellbeing). </p><p>Warlock’s father (not that he deserves the title) works at the precinct and I am reasonably sure that there are more bobbies walking past today than normal. Adam got questioned, too. From the little we could glean from their parents, there were no signs of a struggle and the only things missing were some of Warlock’s favorite clothes and a suitcase, so it’s most likely that they ran, but we’re all very worried. </p><p>I know you seemed fond of Warlock when you visited, and regardless of your feelings about me, I assumed you would want to know. </p><p>I really do hope all is well by you. </p><p>Sincerely,</p><p>Esther </p>
<hr/><p>Esther,</p><p>I am extremely overwhelmed, and I have already used up my monthly allotment of reassurance, but please at least trust that were I to, in some fit of self-sabotage or insanity, decide that I no longer wished to be your friend, I would at least have the decency to tell you directly rather than ghosting. Please refer to earlier emails in this chain regarding the level of esteem I have for you; you may be sure that any such sentiments have grown rather than withered, even if I do not have it in me to express that eloquently at the moment. </p><p>I have had to hire an assistant to sort through my inbox, fan mail in one pile, hate mail in another— rather larger— pile, and I am afraid that your emails got lost in the shuffle. Mary says she’s proud of me for prioritizing my well-being and not forcing myself to look at the vile letters that seem to paint me as the worst of hell’s demons, but missing your letters was a sad casualty of that.</p><p>God, I’m tired. </p><p>As the whole world now knows, I left the house in which I grew up just after my eighteenth birthday, bought my first lipstick, and never went back. If I had had adults in my life like you and Newt and Anathema, perhaps I would not have vanished quite so thoroughly from my former life, but then again, I remember all too viscerally the panic I felt, the total fear of seeing anyone who might, even accidentally, let my bio family know where I was. This is to say that I am sure it’s not a judgment on you that Warlock did not confide in you, but rather a reasonable offshoot of their fear of the people who call themselves their parents. </p><p>Warlock is a smart and competent person. I feel confident in saying that wherever they are, Warlock is safe, secure, and, above all, better off now than they were before. </p><p>Got to go— I have an unexpected house guest who requires feeding.</p><p>Yours,</p><p>Ashtoret J. Crowley</p><p>P.S. Have you ever made a painful promise, one that hurts you to keep, and yet one that you cannot quite regret because you know all the reasons why you made it and that, if you could do it all over again, you would make the same choice?</p>
<hr/><p>Dear Crowley,</p><p>Or would you prefer Ashtoret? I'll follow your lead, whatever makes you most comfortable.</p><p>I’m so very sorry for doubting you. I did rather think it unlikely that you would “ghost” me, as they say, but my own insecurities are such that… well, it was hard to banish the thought, and I have never been so glad to be proven wrong. </p><p>It’s late, and you’re already exhausted, so I’ll leave the rest for later, but I just wanted to respond immediately to let you know that my offer stands— If there is anything at all I can do to help you, say the word, and I’ll be there. I hate to think of you without people to take care of you as you deserve throughout this mess. And if I’m understanding you correctly, it sounds like you have another person to take care of yourself, on top of everything else? </p><p>You were wrong about one thing though— you evidently were not <em> entirely </em>out of reassurance to give. I found your words about Warlock to be very comforting, indeed.</p><p>Esther</p><p>P.S. I trust you, Crowley. Ashtoret. I admit I am angry at whomever asked such a burden of you, when you deserve lightness and freedom and joy, but if you stand by your reasons for making such a promise, I trust that it was truly important, and I will not pry further. Unless I read that all wrong and you're asking on behalf of a character you're writing or something, in which case I look forward to having my heart ripped out of my chest and then tenderly returned whenever I get to read your latest project, as has been the case with your books so far and seems particularly likely if that is the sort of question you are asking about it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I've actually had the majority of this chapter written for weeks, but even as I was writing, the situation in the UK for trans folks has gotten worse. The recent High Court decision to prevent trans kids from accessing puberty blockers is cruel, transphobic, and will have devastating and even deadly consequences for trans youth. While this story takes place in 2019, before the more recent escalations in transphobic rhetoric and legislation, and it is mostly intended to be a soft love story, it would be remiss not to acknowledge the real-world effects Crowley, Warlock, and other trans and genderqueer characters would experience in the UK right now. If this story has meant something to you and you have the funds for it, please consider donating to Mermaids UK or a trans advocacy group near you.</p><p>(Warlock is fine, I promise.)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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